


The First of Many

by jadetheaverage



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadetheaverage/pseuds/jadetheaverage
Summary: The first war with Morgarath ended a little over a year ago and it's time for the annual Gathering of the Rangers.(Short little one-shot of Halt and Crowley being Halt and Crowley, enjoy~)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	The First of Many

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first ever work posted on ao3 so please forgive if the format is a little off (I did this on my phone lol).
> 
> This little fic is dedicated to theravenlyn as a birthday first celebrating the RA's servers first year! 
> 
> Staying in the theme of firsts, I did a little blerb on Halt's first trip to the gathering :)

It was a pleasant day. 

No clouds in the sky, just a wide expanse of endless blue. The air was crisp, but not cold, making it perfect to be quite comfortable in the ever present gray-green mottled cloak.

The sharp rays of the sun filtered in through the branches of the towering trees surrounding the track Cropper was following. His copper coat shone and rippled with each step he took and Crowley found it rather entrancing to watch.

Hood drawn up and reigns held loosely in his hand, the Ranger commandent was rather enjoying the early morning breeze.

That is, till he realized he was being followed.

There was a slight echo to Croppers hoofbeats, hardly noticeable, but there the harder he focused on it. "Well then old friend, let's see who's following hm?" After a few beats of concentration, he nudged Cropper with the toe of his boot in the shoulder, signaling the little horse to switch his gait.

For the ranger-trained horse it wasn't hard at all to take an extra step and swiftly change pace. 

The echo was no longer a slight occurrence, but the unmistakable sound of a horse following them, and just as quickly as it had happened, it was gone.

Whoever was following had his horse switch their gait as well. Crowley grinned and the tension that had crept into his shoulders unnoticed seeped away as he slumped slightly.

"Well Cropper, looks like we have a few friends behind us," he mused. The shaggy horse tossed his head and made some sort of rumbling sound. 'Took you long enough to notice,' he seemed to say. Crowley clucked his tongue. "Right, of course you knew they were there, how silly of me to assume you didn't." 

Again, the little horse made that rumbling sound, though this time Crowley was sure his companion was laughing at him.

A few more paces and Crowley twitched the reigns slightly, having Cropper come to a stop. They had reached a crossroads on their small trail. He of course knew which way to go, but he had a feeling the person behind him didn't.

Having only to wait a few minutes, a rider appeared around the bend of the dirt track. A shorter-than average man sat atop a similar shaggy horse compared to Cropper, though their coat was a mottled dappled gray. The man in question was adorned in a camouflage cloak of greens, grays and browns, breaking up his outline from a distance. A massive longbow, strung and taught lounged across his thighs, the tips of black shafted arrows peaking over his shoulder. Crowley couldn't help but allow a grin to form on his lips as he stood up in his stirrups and waved jauntily.

"Halt!"

The cowled head moved to look up and with a slight movement, Halt had his horse move into a brisk canter, easily closing the gap between himself and his friend. 

Moving right to his side, Halt flicked back his cowl and Crowley did the same. No need to wear them in the presence of a friend on a fine day. Reaching from their saddles, the two men clasped hands and pulled each other close for a moment. Pulling back, Crowley noticed a small smile on Halts face, but made no comment to the usually impassive Hibernian. 

"How've you been Halt? Redmont treating you well?" Crowley asked, maneuvering Cropper to turn around so they could both set down the path again at a slow walk, their horses close enough to reach out and brush muzzles in hello.

Halt nodded, his black hair and beard a little longer than the last time Crowley had seen him. "Nothing too exciting. Fiefs been somewhat quiet as of late, though there have been reports of Skandians along the coast."

Crowley hummed to himself, lost in thought. "Skandians? Bit early in the season for them to try and start raiding." Halt nodded, absentmindedly patting Abelard's neck, the horse shaking his mane as he continued his cryptic conversation with Crowley. Probably telling about the time Halt wasn't paying attention and got hit in the face with a branch. Traitor.

"Yes I thought so too," Halt mused before continuing, "I was going to go up there and check for myself but Farrel offered as did Rodney. 'No point in doing it when you get back when we can go now,' he'd said." Crowley grinned at that. "I suppose Farrel's getting a bit restless in retirement?" Halt snorted, nearly sounding like his horse. "Absolutely. Keeps asking to tag along on missions. Not that I mind, he's good for advice and still as dangerous as ever, but he is retired and not as spry as he used to be."

Crowley chuckled, "Did you tell him that?" The redhead was hardly able to restrain the grin that threatened to show. Halt threw him a withering look. "Is there something about me that says 'I have a deathwish'?" Crowley sorted. "It's the haircut." 

Halt now turned in his saddle to openly glare at his commandant. "And what exactly," he clipped, "is wrong with my haircut?" Crowley suddenly found himself very warm. Whether it was from the open sun on his back, the glowering look from Halt, or the absolute restraint it took not to burst out laughing, he didn't know. 

It was the last one.

"Well," he started carefully, willing his lips to stop twitching, "it's very…idiosyncratic!" He declared loudly, twirling his hands in a mock bow. Halt was unimpressed.

"Idiosyncratic," he repeated flatly.

Crowley nodded quickly. "Yes yes, very much so. It's very, er-you! Yes, absolutely."

Unbeknownst to Halt, the past few minutes of the conversation wasn't just being heard by them. 

They were on their way to the annual gathering of the Rangers. A time when all 50 gather to exchange information and test one anothers skills. It was also a great time to see old friends. This would be the first gathering since the war with Morgarath, and Halt's first gathering ever. Not to mention his own first gathering as Ranger commandant. Lot of firsts happening, Crowley reflected.

As such was the way of the gathering, testing each Rangers skills meant archery competitions and knife throwing. Not to mention tracking and hunting, but the absolute favorite was the unofficial game of unseen and unheard movement. 

Really it was to see who could get the jump on who.

Every Ranger was fair game, even if it was their first gathering and were unaware of such a tradition. 

Some time ago on the track, while Crowley had inquired about Farrel, he noticed that they were no longer alone. A shadow moved like a ghost just beyond his peripheral vision. A slight rustle of bushes there, a gentle sway of grass further along. The horses had clued him, their ears pricked and flicked in the direction of their stalkers. Halt, too offended by Crowley's comment, was defending the dignity of his hair quite loudly and as such, hadn't noticed.

A simple laugh at one of Halts comebacks and toss of his head allowed Crowley to scan their surroundings without being too obvious. The gnarled branches of the forest trees were a canopy of green, reaching far above the ground, and also lower, dipping to make the perfect perch- ah yes. A mottled figure square stock-still on such a branch, bow in hand and an arrow drawn. Nearly impossible to see amongst the branches and foliage, but they were there.

No doubt it was Leander off to Crowley's left, Berragin following on Halt's right. The archer in the trees looked like Lewin but Crowley couldn't be certain. 

They were passing right under the branch now, Halt still going on.

"And I'll have you know, it isn't easy doing one's own hair!" Crowely gave him a long-suffering look. "Oh my dear Halt, that's what barbers are for." The Hibernian made his favorite noise of scoffing. "Please, why pay them when I can do it myself? I get by just fine on how I do my hair and I would appreciate it if you all would quit mocking it, I can hear Leander laughing from here," he said hotly.

The smile on Crowley's face waved, surprise quickly taken over by feigned confusion.

"Leander? Halt it's just us. You, me, Cropper and Abelard. Leander and the other are probably all at the gathering grounds waiting for us."

Halt stared at him for several long seconds before lightly pulling back the reins, bringing Abelard to a stop. Caught unawares, Crowley halted Cropper a few paces ahead. 

"Has that time spent in a stuffy, luxurious castle gotten to you?"

Crowley was genuinely confused now. "What?"

Halt sighed, shaking his head in a somber manner. "Oh if only Pritchard saw you now, nice and cozy up in Castle Araluen, forgotten how to even be aware of your surroundings."

"Now hang on just-" Crowley started heatedly. But he had forgotten. Halt was merciless, and when an opening in any given situation presented itself, he pounced on it like a rabid wolf.

"For the past several meters or so, Berragin and Leander have been tracking us, staying just behind our vision and I oh so hope that Lewin hasn't been holding that arrow too long. I'd hate for him to get tired and accidently let go, shooting either of us. No doubt Merron and Meralon are getting tired of having to stand still for so long. Might as well join us you lot!"

Crowley was speechless as with grumbles of dismay, the exposed Ranger sentries all scuttled from their positions. 

"You…but….when…." Crowley tried to start, before stopping to pause and try again.

Halt shook his head at his companion. "Oh Crowley. Did you really think you'd get the best of me?" Halt nudged Abelard and with a quick flick of his wrist sent the reigns moving and his horse into a loping gait. 

Halt looked back with an open, wolfish grin, his eyes gleaming with glee.

"See you at the Gathering Grounds," he called happily.

He chuckled to himself as he heard a rapid set of footprints and calls for horses to come. Crowley's sputtering grew louder as he hastened Croppee to catch up.

It was nice, this feeling. Having his friend pull up beside him and attempt to explain that no, he was fully aware and how dare Halt put into question his skills. It wasn't a real argument, more so the both of them pulling on each other's leg. Like brothers.

Yes, this was a good feeling, one he was feeling more often the longer he stayed in Araluen. A sense of belonging, as if he was finally arriving home for the first time in his life.


End file.
